Hard to Handle (29 page)

“And now you know,” he whispered, kissing her eyelids closed.

“Now I know.” She nose-dived into his damp throat and clung while they slowly settled back to earth again.

“I love you, baby,” he whispered tenderly.

Joy flooded through her. “I love you, too!” she whispered breathlessly.

He curled her into his body with a long yawn and with the ocean purring like a wet kitten outside the windows, they drifted off into a warm, soft sleep.

“Hey.”

She heard his voice at her ear. Then there was an aroma, a delicious smell of fresh coffee, rich and dark and delicious.

Her eyes didn’t even open, but her head followed the retreat of the coffee.

“I thought that would do it. Breakfast,” Alexander coaxed. “We’ve got your favorite, pecan waffles with bacon.”

Her eyes opened. “You remembered!”

He grinned at her. “I know what you like.” His lips pursed. “Especially after last night.”

She laughed, dragging herself out of bed in the slip she’d worn to bed, because it was still too soon to sleep in nothing at all. She was shy with him.

He was completely dressed, right down to his shoes. He gave her an appreciative sweep of his green eyes that took in her bare feet and her disheveled hair.

“You look wonderful like that,” he said. “I always knew you would.”

“When was that, exactly?” she chided, taking a seat at the table facing the window. “Before or after you accused me of being a layabout?”

“Ouch!” he groaned.

“It’s okay. I forgive you,” she said with a wicked glance. “I could never hold a grudge against a man who was that good in bed.”

“And just think, I was very subdued last night, in deference to your first time.”

She gasped. “Well!”

His eyebrows arched. “Think of the possibilities. If you aren’t too delicate after last night, we could explore some of them later.”

“Later?”

“I had in mind taking you around town and showing you off,” he said, flipping open a napkin. “They have all sorts of interesting things to see here.”

She sipped coffee, trying to ignore her body, which was making emphatic statements about what
it
wanted to do with the day.

He was watching her with covert, wise eyes. “On the other hand,” he murmured as he nibbled a pancake, “if you were feeling lazy, we could just lie around in the bed and listen to the ocean, while we…”

Her hand poised over the waffle. “While we…?”

He began to smile. She laughed. The intimacy was new and secret, and exciting. She rushed through the waffle and part of the bacon, and then pushed herself away from the table and literally threw herself into his arms across the chair. He prided himself on his control, because they actually almost made it to the bed….

Two days later, worn-out, and not because of any sightseeing trip, they dragged themselves into the ranch house with a bag full
of peace offerings for Margie which included seashells, baskets, a pretty ruffled sundress and some taffy.

Margie gave them a long, amused look. “There is going to have to be a wedding here,” she informed them. “It won’t do to run off to Mexico and get married, you have to do it in Jacobsville before anybody will believe you’re really man and wife.”

“I don’t mind,” Alexander said complacently, “but I’m not making the arrangements.”

“Jodie and I can do that.”

“But I have to go back to work,” she told Margie, and went forward to hand her the bag and hug her. “And I haven’t even told you about my new job!”

“What about your new husband?” Alexander groaned. “Are you going to desert me?”

She gave him a wicked glance. “Don’t you have to talk to somebody about ranch business? Margie doesn’t even know that I’m changing jobs!”

He sighed. “That’s all husbands are good for,” he murmured to himself. “You marry a woman, and she runs off and leaves you to gossip with a girlfriend.”

“My sister-in-law, if you please,” Jodie corrected him with a grin. “I’ll cook you a nice apple pie for later, Alexander,” she promised.

“Okay, I do take bribes,” he had to confess. He grinned at her. “But now that we’re married, couldn’t you find something else to call me? Something a little less formal?”

She thought about it for a minute. “Darling,” she said.

He looked at her with an odd expression, smiled as if he couldn’t help himself, and made a noise like a tiger. He went out the back door while they were still laughing.

Jodie moved into her new job with a little apprehension, because of what she’d said to Brody Vance, but he was as genial as if no cross words had ever been spoken between them. Cara Dominguez still hadn’t been heard from or seen, neither had her accomplice. There was still a shipment of drugs missing, that had to be in the warehouse somewhere, but guards and stepped up surveillance assured that the drug dealers couldn’t get near the warehouse to search for it.

One of Cara’s rivals in the business was arrested in a guns-for-drugs deal in Houston that made national and international headlines. Alexander told Jodie about it just before the wire services broke the story, and assured her that Cara’s organization was going to be next on the list of objectives for his department.

Meanwhile, Jodie learned the ropes of computer security and went back to school to finish her certification, with Alexander’s blessing. Margie came up to see her while she was arranging a showing of her new designs with a local modeling agency and a department store that Kirry didn’t work for.

Alexander kept shorter hours and did more delegating of chores, so that he could be at home when Jodie was. They bought a small house on the outskirts of Houston. Margie arranged to help Jodie with the decorating scheme. She was still amazed at the change in her best friend, who was now independent, strong-willed, hardworking and nobody’s doormat.

There was still the retro coffeehouse, of course, and one night Jodie had a phone call from the owner, Johnny. She listened, exploded with delight, and ran to tell Alexander the news.

“The publisher wants to buy my poems!” she exclaimed. “He wants to include them in an anthology of Texas poetry! Isn’t it exciting?”

“It’s exciting,” he agreed, bending to kiss her warmly. “Now tell the truth. They’re about me, aren’t they?”

She sighed. “Yes, they’re about you. But I’m afraid this will be the only volume of poetry I ever create.”

“Really? Why?”

She nibbled his chin. “Because misery is what makes good poetry. And just between us two,” she added as her fingers went to his shirt buttons, “I’m far too happy to write good poetry ever again.”

He guided her fingers down his shirt, smiling secretively. “I have plans to keep you that way, too,” he murmured deeply.

And he did.